


darken your door

by chaosy



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Study, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosy/pseuds/chaosy
Summary: A series of visitors to the door of Rebecca Barnes, over the years.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	darken your door

**Author's Note:**

> I sure do love outsider-pov, huh. This was stuck in my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it all down in one sitting, therefore it is riddled with mistakes.   
> I have a slight formatting issue with AO3 and italics, of which I am unfortunately fond. If there is anything glaring and unreadable please let me know, any criticism is welcome. Thank you for the kind comments that have been left on my work.

The doorbell rings. George is out working, Winifred has her hands full with dinner. “Becca, can you answer it?” she calls from the kitchen. 

She’s not quite tall enough to reach the handle comfortably so it takes a moment of standing on her tiptoes to do so. Runty, her pa calls her, but it’s okay, she’ll shoot right up once she’s older.

This is her earliest memory of Steve Rogers. He’s ten, five years older than her, but not a hell of a lot taller. He’s skinny and his shirt and shoes are too big. “Hiya, Rebecca,” he says. His eyes are kind. “Is Bucky in?”

She’s nervous. She’s only heard about Steve in pieces from Bucky who met him at school. Apparently his heart’s too big for his body. Apparently his lungs don’t work so well. “Went to the store,” she manages, squashed between the cracked-open door and the frame. Steve nods at her encouragingly. 

“Well, I’ll wait right here then. We’re gonna do our homework together. You get homework yet?” he asks. She shakes her head. “Lucky you. You’ll start homework once you’re in big school.”

Winifred appears over her head. Rebecca shrinks back against her apron. Her mother’s hardworking hands settle on her shoulders. 

“Please ma’am, I’m looking for Bucky,” Steve says, undeterred by Winifred’s suspicious eyes. 

She regards him for a long time. “You’re Sarah Rogers’ boy, aren’t you,” she says. Steve nods. She sighs. “I suppose you’d better come in.”

Bucky arrives home barely a moment later, a bag of onions and two cokes under his arm. He hands one to Steve, who pours a little of his out so Becca can try some. 

“You might ask before you invite a friend over,” Winifred says to him as she makes the boys set the table. Bucky shrugs, rebellious as anything even so young.

“Naw, c’mon, Ma. It’s Steve. He’s welcome anytime.”

/

The doorbell rings. Bucky seems to have a sixth sense for when Steve’s coming down the street so he’s usually out to meet him before he reaches the front door. He’s out tonight, so Rebecca answers it. 

“Hiya, Becca,” Steve says. He’s sixteen and she’s eleven. Between Rebecca’s serious face and Steve’s total lack of a growth spurt, they look like they could be the same age.

“Hey, Steve,” she says. She ushers him inside. “Bucky’s out. He should be back soon.”

George is reading the paper in his chair. He nods a greeting to Steve. “Out chasing girls,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on the race times.

“He’s on a date,” Rebecca translates. “There’s lemonade in the fridge if you want. It’s hot out.”

Steve’s smile suddenly becomes rather strained. “Sure is,” he said. “Thank you, I’ll have a lemonade. Your school work going okay?”

She doesn’t notice Steve’s eyes becoming increasingly cloudy as she talks about how boring Mrs Whaley is when they learn about long division. 

“Don’t cheek your teachers,” Winifred says as she pours a glass for herself. “You’ve got a brain like your brother but if you’re unlucky you’ll have a mouth like him too.”

Steve fidgets from his place on the couch. “I wouldn’t worry, Mrs Barnes. Bucky’s real smart but he keeps out of trouble. It’s usually me getting us into - uh. Situations,” he says. His eyes rove around their cramped little kitchen nervily, as if Bucky could be hiding in the walls. 

“I’m aware,” Winifred says, her voice frosty. “At least you’re not running around with girls,” she says.

Steve looks down at his hands. “No ma’am,” he says. The summer evening heat bakes the apartment. George sends Rebecca to bed around eight, and he and Winifred go up not long after. 

Rebecca watches Steve sat in their living room from the top of the stairs. He’s been there for three hours. He sighs and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

/

The doorbell rings. Rebecca is thirteen, young enough to be left home alone but not allowed to open the door for strangers. Bucky is out and promised he’d be only a moment. It’s been at least two hours.

She peers out of the curtain to try and see who’s calling.

“Becca,  _ Bec _ , open the fuckin’ door, it’s me,” Bucky says roughly. His voice sounds strange. She opens the door hurriedly.

Bucky looks terrible. Blood mats his carefully pomaded hair. One of his eyes is a little bloody in the white. 

Steve looks considerably worse. For one, he’s barely conscious, his eyelids flickering. Bucky is mostly carrying him. He’s bleeding from his nose and his face is terribly bruised. There’s blood seeping through his shirt.

“Shit, Bucky,” Rebecca says as they stumble inside. 

“Don’t curse,” Bucky says back on automatic. He carries Steve upstairs and lays him down on his bed. “I need some water and pa’s medical kit. You know the whiskey he keeps under the sink? Bring that too.”

Rebecca doesn’t know about the whiskey but she brings it. She took a class with the nurses in school. Bucky takes a drink hastily before he starts trying to patch Steve up. Rebecca drips a little water into his mouth.

“C’mon, buddy, that was a tough one, right? Just keep your eyes open. There you are,” Bucky says gently. He holds Steve’s head up while Rebecca carefully presses disinfectant against the scrapes on his hands, hushing him when he groans. She recognises the sweet tone of Bucky’s voice. It’s the voice he uses when she’s come home from having a scrap in school, or when she was a kid and got bad dreams. He’s always gentle with Steve.

“I think his wrist is broken. He’s gotta go to the hospital. Closest one’s in Bay Ridge, I can call -” she says. 

“Hell no,” Bucky interrupts her. “We go back to Bay Ridge, we’re dead. Steve picked a fight with the McGills.”

The McGills run all the docks in Sunset Park and their boys like to prowl around Bay Ridge like soldiers. “What the hell was he thinking?” Rebecca says.

“ _ Don’t curse _ . Go find Sarah Rogers. You know where she lives?” Rebecca nods. “Right. Go down to Red Hook, bring her here. I can’t move him right now,” Bucky says, helplessly looking down at Steve, who is breathing shallowly and bleeding on the sheets. “Go on now. And you run fast.”

Rebecca nods again. She presses a quick kiss to Steve’s forehead before she gets up and grabs her coat. She hears Bucky whisper  _ good girl _ but when she glances back at him his eyes are already back on Steve. 

“Don’t leave me now, Stevie,” she hears as she runs out the door. “Can’t do this without you.”

/

The doorbell rings. Steve and Bucky are playing cards in the kitchen. George is out, thank Christ, and Winifred is upstairs laying down. Becca is privately thankful that neither she nor the boys seem to have noticed the door going.

Harrison Proctor is standing on the step. His glasses make him look like a mad scientist in a comic book. He has a bunch of flowers tucked under one arm that look a little squashed, wrapped in waxy paper.

“Hey, uh. Hey Rebecca,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

She smiles at him and smooths her new dress down. “Hey, Harrison. Told you to call me Becca, everyone does,” she says.

He nods nervously. “Yeah, sorry. Hi Becca. You, uh. You look real pretty. Real pretty dress,” he says. She smiles wider. “You ready to go?”

“Sure,” she says and she’s about to leave the apartment with zero casualties when she feels two figures appear at her shoulders.

“ _ Mister _ Proctor,” Bucky drawls, his shoulder pressed up against the side of the doorframe. Becca closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

“Oh,” Harrison says, his eyes wide behind his thick glasses. “It’s James, isn’t it? Becca’s said - great things about you.”

Becca has told him nothing of the sort. She’s said her brother is a damned menace. 

“I’m sure. This is my  _ associate _ , Steve Rogers,” Bucky says, gesturing to Steve. Steve and Becca have been the same height for quite a while since her growth spurt so he doesn’t look quite as intimidating, but he’s grinning at him like a shark to a tiny little fish.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Steve says to Harrison but doesn’t shake his offered hand. “I see you’re taking the young lady out for an afternoon walk?”

Harrison looks like he’s about to die on their front steps. “Yes, uh. Yes, that’s right. Yes sir,” he says anxiously. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Bucky says. Becca can hear the glee in his voice. “And you’ll treat my little sister with the utmost respect, I’m sure. No funny business -”

“ _ Bucky _ ,” she snaps, elbowing him in the stomach. Bucky’s  _ oof _ is worth it - Steve snorts explosively to her left. 

“Just making sure your young fella is respectful, Bec!” Bucky protests. Steve is fighting back another laugh, hanging off his shoulder. 

Harrison nods keenly. “Of course, sir. No funny business,” he says with wide eyes. “Absolutely none of that sir, not until - not until we’re married.”

It’s too much for Steve, who damn near collapses laughing and Bucky has to shove him down the hallway. Becca presses both hands to her face. God, Harrison, she thinks. A sweetheart and a real dumbass.

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” Bucky says, wiping a tear out of his eye, slapping his hand heartily on Becca’s shoulder before pumping Harrison’s hand up and down in a ridiculous, energetic handshake. “You kids go on now. Here’s a dime for a cola. Have her back by seven, Mr. Proctor!”

Harrison assures him that yes, of course, and not a moment later, that it was a pleasure to meet them both as he stiffly offers Becca his arm to take and they walk down the steps. Bucky lingers in the doorway to watch them go. “He seems nice!” he calls, as Steve appears next to him to wave them off.

“Screw you!” Becca shouts back. The two of them start guffawing and Harrison looks at her worriedly. 

She sighs deeply but keeps a hold of his arm. They round a corner and once they’re out of sight she grins at him. Tentatively, he grins back. 

“Pay no attention to my brothers,” she says, and they go on their walk.

/

The doorbell rings. Bucky is outside.

George told him to leave his key and never come back. This was a couple months ago. They had a huge, screaming row, and George told Bucky to  _ be a goddamn man _ and Bucky said  _ I’d rather die than set foot in this house again _ . He went to live with Steve, who’s got the room and a kinder smile than their parents. 

George and Winifred are out. Becca spends most afternoons alone in the house if Harrison isn’t around. It’s quiet without Bucky. Steve doesn’t come over anymore, so the doorbell doesn’t ring much.

“Hey, Bec,” he says. 

“Bucky,” she says and rushes out. They’ve managed to see each other in snatches since he left. He gives her such a tight hug that the force of it lifts her off her feet. 

“God, it’s only been a couple months, how do you keep getting taller? Lemme look at you,” he says, smoothing her hair off her face. “You gotta keep your hair fixed or else Ma’ll be on your tail. They treating you alright?” he asks. His eyes - same grey as hers - search her face worriedly. 

She nods, wrapping her arms back around him for another hug. Bucky might have said  _ you’re not a kid anymore _ but he hugs her back this time and doesn’t say a word. “They’re letting me stay in school. Mrs Whaley says I can think about scholarships in a couple years,” she says. “For college.”

Bucky laughs and Becca looks up alarmedly to see tears in the corners of his eyes. “College,” he says. “Jesus. That’ll be a first, huh? A college-educated Barnes. What a thought.”

They stand on the step, shaking a little even though it’s barely cold. “I don’t know if I should invite you in,” Becca says miserably. Bucky ruffles a hand through her hair and clears his throat.

“Nah, don’t, I know they’ll be back soon. I just wanted to look at you. Check on you. Wanted to give you this,” he says, and gives her a carefully folded piece of paper. Inside are a few coins, a dollar. 

Becca’s eyes widen. She looks up at Bucky uncomprehendingly. 

“Just - hell,” he says, looks away. He lights a cigarette in two quick movements and takes a drag. Becca doesn’t look away respectfully as he wipes his eyes. 

She reaches for the cigarette and he pulls it back. “You ain’t gonna start smoking. Filthy habit,” he says and takes another drag. 

“Just like I shouldn’t curse?” she says, stoutly, like they’re kids again. Bucky lets slip a watery laugh. 

“Don’t fucking curse,” he says. They both smile at each other. It’s sad. “You save that money. Sew it into your dress or something. Keep saving, just take a few pennies from when you go to work, something that Ma won’t notice. You understand?” he says and she nods. “And the moment you can, whether it’s college or something else, you take that money and you get out of here.”

There’s a stretch of silence. “Bucky,” Becca says.

“I mean it. It’s a hard life here. No jobs, people going hungry. Save up for college, or, hell, just - don’t stay here, Becca. Please. With the war, the situation in Brooklyn is only gonna get worse,” he says.

He hugs her again. They sit for a while on the porch and talk. Sarah Rogers is sick with TB but gets to stay in a nice sanatorium and she’s apparently well on track to recover soon. Becca unfolds the paper that Bucky gave her and it’s a beautiful drawing of herself, a bright smile on her face. Steve’s careful signature at the bottom. 

She hides the money in a pair of stockings that she bundles up in the back of the closet. The picture is slipped underneath her mattress. 

Her parents come home as it gets dark. “Anyone come calling?” George asks. Becca shakes her head.

/

The doorbell rings. It’s Dot, one of Bucky’s flames that managed to stick longer than most. Her pretty red hair is done up under a hat. She’s in a navy dress with a starched collar that’s seen a little too much bleach.

“Hey, Rebecca,” she says, holding out a hand. “The boys asked if I could come get you. We can walk to the church together.”

Becca likes Dot. She’s smart and funny. Today her expression is very serious. She takes her hand and they link arms.

“We’ll be along for the service,” Winifred says from the doorway. “You girls stay together.”

“Yes Mrs Barnes,” Dot says. Becca adjusts her dress and doesn’t say anything. 

Sarah Rogers died last week.

The Irish bury their dead quickly. She only got the news a couple of days ago and already they’ve thrown together a hasty funeral for her. 

The church is quiet - Sarah was a sweet widow who kept to herself. Who stopped going to church so often after her husband died and she was told she’d most likely outlive her only son. Bucky greets her at the entrance with a quick hug. Steve stands at the front and stares blankly ahead.

Becca still goes to church every sunday with her parents, although she doesn’t pay much attention to what’s being said. The service is dour and sad. People cluster around at the end for cold tea and crumbly bites of cake.

The moment the last  _ amen _ rings out around the hollow hall, Steve stands up and strides out before anyone can stop him.

“Can you help me look?” Bucky whispers to her as everyone stands in awkward clumps, talking about Sarah like they knew her. “Steve, he’ll - I’m worried about what he’ll get up to. His head ain’t right today.”

Becca nods. She and Harrison step out with the excuse of needing some air. They go through the park and down to the docks that smell of smoke. Steve, despite his small frame, is easy to spot, but they come up empty handed. 

Two hours and a steadily furrowing frown on Harrison’s face later and they run into Dot. 

“He says he’s got him. Sent me a message,” she says. She looks a little put out. 

“Thank god. Steve shouldn’t be alone today,” Harrison says seriously. Dot nods.

“Thank goodness he’s got Bucky, huh?”

Becca finds herself leaning a little heavier on Harrison’s arm. “Always has done,” she says.

/

The doorbell rings. Bucky again. He usually stops by strategically when their parents aren’t around but not today. 

Their parents wouldn’t dare berate a man in uniform.

Steve stands a few feet back and has such an intensely jealous expression on his face that Becca can’t help but feel sorry for him. She hugs Bucky and laughs at the way he doffs his hat to her. She hugs Steve as well, dressed in his father’s shirt and slacks that are still too big.

“Look at you.  _ Sergeant _ ,” she says. Bucky grins. People do look at him differently. He takes Becca and Steve out for ice cream and people smile his way and call him  _ sir _ . 

No one has ever called Bucky  _ sir _ , not to Becca’s knowledge.  _ Asshole _ , certainly.  _ Bastard, rascal _ . Steve calls him  _ jerk _ but it’s sort of loving.

Steve is quiet as they walk. Becca links arms with him. “Soon it’ll be just you keeping Brooklyn in check,” she says. “Think we could fight crime together?”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky laughs. “You better keep an eye on him, Bec, I can’t be pulling this guy out of fights when I ship out.”

“Like anyone but you could get Steve Rogers to do anything,” she argues back. “S’like arguing with a hurricane.”

Steve gives them both a tired smile. The short walk tires out his lungs now, and they sit on a park bench.

“You just gotta come back soon. Then you can keep each other out of trouble and things will be back to normal again,” Becca says. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. His eyes are on Steve. They have dates tonight, apparently. One last dance before Bucky goes off to war. “Normal sounds nice.”

/

The doorbell rings. Letter for Rebecca Barnes. 

_ France is awful cold. Steve is writing this because  _ ~~_ he’s a much better writer _ ~~ _ (that wasn’t what I said!) his hands aren’t shaking. It’s amazing I haven’t gotten frostbite. The snow in the mountains is quite beautiful. I’d almost enjoy the travelling if we weren’t in any danger.  _

_ Steve’s got a terrible crush on one of the agents here. You would love her - she’s called Peggy Carter and she shot him one time. Steve sure knows how to pick em! He’s frowning at me but he’ll write what I say, because I make sure no one else shoots at him. You would run rings around the other Commandos; they’d all treat you like a little princess because you’re my baby sister. Hopefully one day you’ll meet them when we’re home. The Colonel says we’re winning the war. I know Steve will get us out of any tight spots. He’s handy with that shield of his. _

_ Make sure you study hard. College will be full of brains. Keep saving your pennies so that you don’t have to work too much when you go. And be careful of the boys at college, they’re all moneyed types and up to no good - you let me know the moment Harrison proposes. I want to scare him a little more before he puts a ring on your finger for good. _

_ It’s tough out here, Becca. I’m so glad you’re safe at home. We’ve seen some awful sights and I can only feel relieved that you don’t have to be on the front lines. Tell you the truth, I enlisted because I couldn’t think of what else to do, but Steve’s got me a little more optimistic. I’m fighting out here for you and him. He’s not going to get sick no more, he’s a medical marvel. I reckon that we can win this - what’s one more miracle? _

_ Stay safe and behave. Send my love to Ma and Pa. Don’t fuss if they don’t say it back. _

_ Your brother, _

_ Bucky _

/

The doorbell has been broken for a couple weeks. George can’t figure out what’s wrong with it and is too proud to ask anyone else. There’s a sharp knock at the door.

The woman standing outside has a pretty, open face, but her eyes are dark and hard. Her lipstick is bright red. It’s more fashionable nowadays but her mother still doesn’t let Becca wear such a bold colour while she’s living under their roof.

“I’m looking for Rebecca Barnes,” she says. She has a strange accent - English.

“She’s in her room,” Winifred says. “Becca!”

The English woman peers at her. “Are you Mrs Barnes, senior? I should like to speak to you as well. And your husband if he’s available.”

“Well, sure. Come into the kitchen. We weren’t expecting callers, but I can fix you a coffee, Miss -”

“Carter. Agent Peggy Carter, with the SSR. It’s about your son.”

They sit down around the kitchen table. Peggy doesn’t look at either of her parents - she looks straight at Becca.

Steve is dead. Bucky is dead. They died within days of each other. Bucky fell off a train after being shot. Steve crashed a plane into the Arctic a couple of days later. 

Winifred buries her tears in her handkerchief. George doesn’t say a word, just puts an arm around his wife. Peggy unfolds a piece of fabric from her bag - medals. Their bodies weren’t recovered but they were both posthumously awarded a medal of honour. The ribbon is bright blue. Becca stares at it.

“I will personally see to it that both of them are placed in the highest regard when memorialising the war effort,” Peggy says, her voice a little tremulous. “Their actions saved the lives of countless men.”

Becca can’t listen to this. She sits up sharply and her chair scrapes the floor as she stands. She runs out of the house like a kid, down the street, coming to an abrupt halt at the bench that she sat with Steve and Bucky the day before Bucky shipped out. She sinks down and sobs.

Her eyes sting and her face feels raw before she feels a gentle hand settle over her shoulder. It’s not either of her parents - Peggy Carter looks down at her with tears in her own eyes.

She sits down slowly next to her. Amidst the muck and dust of Brooklyn, Peggy looks comically out of place in her good shoes. Becca feels wild, young and stupid next to her. She can’t stop crying.

“I confess, your brother didn’t like me much,” Peggy says quietly as they sit, a hand resting on Becca’s shoulder. “Nor I him. I thought at first he was another arrogant young man, trying to fight a war he didn’t understand. But I was wrong. He was exceptionally dedicated. He truly made a difference and never let Steve down. He spoke about all the places he wanted to take you after the war was over,” she says. Her voice is comfortingly soft. Becca sniffs.

“Steve always hated all of Bucky’s girlfriends,” she says, thickly. 

Peggy goes pink. She offers Becca a handkerchief and draws another from her purse to wipe her own eyes, breathing out quietly. “Steve and I never quite got to that point. Perhaps - in another life,” she says. Becca knows she’s grieving too. She reaches for the hand on her shoulder and presses it between her own.

They sit in silence. The sun is setting, lighting up the street in glorious pink and gold. “Steve and James listed you as their next of kin,” Peggy says. “You’re entitled to a payout. Heavens knows it’s not much but it’s enough for your parents to retire comfortably. You could get your own place here, or travel - I know your brother would be pleased if you saw some of the world.” She pauses. “My offices are based in New York. If there’s anything I can do, please - anything you can think of. Just ask.”

Becca nods. She wipes her eyes again. “I’m trying to go to college,” she says, in a small voice.

Peggy gives her a much brighter smile this time around. “Wonderful. Well, I can certainly help with that. I’m sure a letter of recommendation from some of the highest awarded members of our armed forces couldn’t hurt. And paying all your fees, of course.”

“You’re sure?” Becca says, momentarily stunned.

“Of course,” Peggy says to her. There’s a determined look in her shining eyes that makes her look fearsome.  _ Steve sure knows how to pick em _ , she thinks. “Let’s help you to lead a life your brother would be proud of.”

/

The doorbell rings. Harrison answers it, although he spends a good long while peering through the keyhole. Ever since he got contact lenses he’s been showing off, Becca says.

“Hello, Mr. Proctor. Is your wife at home?” The man is tall and gangly, with an old-fashioned cap on his head that might have been in style when they were both teenagers. 

“Who’s asking?” Harrison asks.

“I represent a client who has a portfolio of antiques in a private collection. I believe your wife is in possession of some rare Captain America memorabilia,” the man says.

“They’re not memorabilia,” Becca says, appearing in the doorway by Harrison’s side. James is out for the evening at the roller rink. “They’re personal letters.”

He tips his cap to her. “Regardless of definition, ma’am, my client would be interested in purchasing them off of you. I’m sure we could meet your price,” he says, and hands her an embossed card. 

Becca and Harrison look at the card for a long time. Finally, Becca looks up. “No, thank you,” she says. “Run along now.” And she shuts the door in his protests.

“Third one this month,” Harrison grumbles, taking the card from her to throw in the trash. “Like magpies, the lot of them.”

Becca nods thoughtfully. There is a carefully sealed box in the attic. She only goes through it when her heart is aching, which isn’t so much these days.

She looks at Harrison as he starts on making dinner. “Do we still have the number for the Smithsonian?”

/

Kimberly has set her up with some hi-tech door system. An electric doorbell and a camera so that she can see who’s outside, talk to them through the intercom. Her hip makes her slower these days and it’s harder to walk to the door.

Instead of the usual 8-bit chime, there’s a knock.

“Steve Rogers,” Becca says, when she opens the door

“Mrs. Proctor,” Steve says. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

“ _ Remember _ you!?  _ Steve _ ,” she says, and flings her arms around him.

For most of her life, Becca has been taller than Steve. She had a growth spurt in her teens and shot up to almost 5’10. The girls at school teased her and called her  _ mannish _ and that no boy would want a girl so tall. Steve heard about it and got that look in his eye that he got, saying that he thought she was the prettiest girl in her class.

Bucky had laughed and said  _ you stay away from my sister, Rogers _ .

“Of course I remember you,” she says against his massive shoulder. She’s shrunk a little. Steve has grown a hell of a lot. “Oh, Steve. I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, tears beading at the corners of her eyes.

Steve offers her his arm to hold onto as she guides him into the living room. He looks so different. Tall and big broad shoulders to hold up the weight of the world. Becca hasn’t seen him since he was a skinny kid making trouble with her big brother.

“When did you wake up?” she asks. She saw the Battle of New York on the news. She saw the footage of a blonde head and a gleaming shield. The statement released in the days after only confirmed what she’d known in an instant.

“Couple weeks ago,” Steve says. “It’s all - it’s a lot,” he settles on. Becca gives him a gentle smile.

“Have you figured out the internet yet?” she asks. 

Steve laughs, bemused. “Got my first email yesterday. What a world, huh?” he says.

They laugh and talk and cry a little for a few hours. Becca has an appointment with her physiotherapist. Steve walks her to her car and looks at the cane she uses. When he takes her hand he sees the ring on her finger.

“He passed two years ago,” Becca says. “Almost seventy years of marriage. We were happy together. I miss him every day, but I have kids - grandkids, and soon enough they’ll start having their own kids. I’m lucky. There’s a lot of love in my life,” she says and sighs. It’s true. Steve didn’t get to have that, with the fiery Peggy Carter, with any girl. “Do you remember, perhaps when - Harrison took me on our first date. I couldn’t have been older than fifteen. You and Bucky scared the devil out of him,” she says.

Steve smiles. He had a certain special smile for Bucky. Becca would know that smile anywhere. “I remember. You know, for me, it was just a few years ago,” he says softly.

Becca smiles at him and stretches up to brush a kiss to his cheek. “Me too,” she says.

/

There’s a knock at the door. Steve hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the intercom system yet.

“Steve!” Kimberly says. Naomi - Becca’s first great grandchild - is balanced on her hip, half asleep.

“Hey, Kim,” Steve says, giving her a quick hug and smiling at baby Naomi. “Is Becca around?”

“Just making lunch. She’s got all stressed about how much you eat so I hope you like egg salad - we’ve got  _ buckets _ .”

“Prepared with no help from you,” Becca says good naturedly, glancing out into the hall from the kitchen. “Come in, Steve, have a coffee while I finish up.”

Steve is usually charming and insistently helpful when he comes over for lunch. Today he accepts his coffee quietly and sits at the countertop.

“You might want to sit down, Bec,” he says. 

Becca pauses, her hands hovering above the sink. She sees the look on Steve’s face and quietly shuts the kitchen door before sitting opposite him.

Steve has an expression on his face that Becca has never seen before. “There’s no easy way to say this,” he says. “When Bucky fell from the train, he would have fallen over a thousand feet. He would have been dead on impact,” he says.

Becca covers his hand with her own, slightly alarmed. “I know, dear,” she says.

“He didn’t die,” Steve says through a harsh exhale. “When Bucky was a POW he was injected with some version of the serum that changed me. It must have kept him alive after the fall.”

Becca stares at him uncomprehendingly. She feels as though she can’t breathe.

“He was found by the Russians, and later by outlying members of Hydra. They - they recognised him,” Steve says. He speaks as though he’s in great pain. “They kept him captive. You know about Hydra’s infiltration of SHIELD, the leak that happened a year ago -”

“Steve,” Becca interrupts. “What happened to him?”

There’s a terrible silence. “He’s alive,” Steve says eventually. Naomi cries from outside and they both look at the door. Becca can hear Kimberly shushing her gently.

“All this time -”

“Kept by Hydra. They brainwashed him using this - this  _ machine _ ,” Steve says. His breathing is heavy. “I didn’t know. I swear, I thought he was dead all this time. I recognised him during the fight in DC.”

Becca is shaking. She presses her hand to her mouth. “Oh god,” she says. “Oh god.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I couldn’t tell you - he didn’t know who he was. Who he is.”

Bucky is alive. Becca saw the pictures from DC - “He killed people,” she says.

“It wasn’t him,” Steve says, quickly. “They changed him, Hydra put him through - the most unimaginable pain. They kept him on ice just like me.”

It’s too much. Becca feels like a teenager again, sobbing on a park bench while Peggy Carter tells her it’s all going to be alright. Except there is no hopeful future, no hero’s death. Bucky is  _ alive _ -

Steve is holding her up. At some point she must have slid off of her chair, her legs weak. 

“Grandma? What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Kim, I gave her some bad news, I think it was too much -”

“Like hell,” Becca says weakly, holding onto Steve’s shoulder. He carries her into the living room like she weighs nothing. To him, perhaps she does. He lays her down on the couch and sits by her. 

“He wants to see you,” he says, once everyone has calmed down. “He’s better now. Not great, but he’s doing good, he’s with me. He wasn’t ready to see anyone before but now he wants to see you,” he says.

Becca drinks the tea that Kimberly worriedly pushed at her. “You’re taking care of him,” she says to Steve quietly.

Steve nods. He says, “Til the end of the line.”

/

Bucky doesn’t visit her house. She arranges, through Steve, to meet him at a park in Rochester. The cab driver looks worriedly at her walking stick but New York drivers will never linger around if they can’t make a buck while doing it.

She doesn’t spot him until she’s about ten feet away. While Steve’s eyes and his expressions were achingly familiar, the man sat on the park bench is a stranger.

He’s almost as big as Steve and has a glove on one hand. His hair is long and pulled messily off his face in a tie. Despite the spring warmth, he’s in a heavy jacket and boots. 

“Hello, Bucky,” Becca says. He looks up at her with wide, stricken eyes. His face is familiar but he looks wrong. Like someone took her brother’s shadow and made him a person. Becca keeps these thoughts to herself.

“Rebecca,” he says. He stands up to greet her. They don’t hug. He clasps her hand in his. Hers are old, fine lines in the skin, and Bucky’s one flesh hand is callused and scarred. She doesn’t ask to see the other one.

“You never called me that,” she says to him softly as they sit down. Bucky gives her a grimace. 

“Wasn’t sure what you go by nowadays. We don’t even have the same last name,” he says. His voice is different. Slow, quiet, like talking is an effort.

Becca looks at the brother who went to war and broke her heart. “I author papers under my maiden name,” she says. “Harrison didn’t do a PhD, so why should his name be on the paper?”

Bucky looks so shocked that he laughs. It also sounds wrong, like he’s not sure  _ how _ to laugh. Becca finds that she doesn’t give a damn. She reaches for his gloved hand and threads their fingers together. 

“You liked college so much you decided to stay there,” he says. She smiles at him. She wonders how she must look, his elderly sister, who he always expected to outlive. 

A cyclist rushes past them a little too close off the path. Bucky frowns and subtly his arm moves in front of Becca so quickly she doesn’t even register the movement. She pats his hand.

“I took a break between my masters and my doctorate when I had kids. Couldn’t get a job for a while. And they nearly rescinded the title when I got arrested,” she says, particularly enjoying how Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression horrified. “Steve tell you about the Freedom Riders yet?”

“You were always getting into trouble,” Bucky says, and they both let slip a shaky laugh. It breaks some of the tension and they sit with each other for a while. “You’ve had a life,” he says, quieter.

Becca nods. “You can lead yours now,” she says. Carefully, giving Bucky time to protest, she pulls off his glove. The metal hand gleams in the sunlight. Bucky flexes his fingers and warms the metal with his other hand before taking a hold of hers again.

/

The doorbell rings. A nurse opens the door.

“Hey there, Jen,” Steve says. “We’re a little early.”

“Not at all. She’s just woken up. Come on through,” Jen says.

Becca is sat up in bed. Her hair is white now, although she insists on neatly curling it before bed. Her mind is still sharp of anything. Bucky looks at Steve and knows he’s thinking about Peggy. He strokes his back gently as they walk down the corridor.

“You really must cut your hair, Buck,” she says as they settle down for tea. “It’s all in your face.”

Bucky gives her a wry grin and puffs a strand off his cheek. “I could curl it like you. Look all pretty, huh?”

“As if you need to be more vain,” Steve says easily, draping an arm around his chair. “This guy in the war, putting pomade in his hair as the bombs went off,” he says. Becca laughs. 

Bucky grumbles a little but he’s smiling. “What, a guy can’t care about his appearance? I’m a modern man,” he argues. 

“A very modern man, it seems,” Becca says, nodding pointedly at Steve’s arm around the back of his chair. 

Bucky immediately goes red. Steve stammers, trying to find the words that won’t come. “Are you boys trying to tell me something?” Becca says with an unbelievably wide smile.

“You don’t look surprised,” Bucky says.

Becca takes pity on him and tries to tone down her grin somewhat. It doesn’t quite work. “Well, I’ve known for a long time. Longer than you two, I think,” she tells him. Bucky goes through several emotions at once, all apparent on his face.

Steve looks rather guilty but he takes Bucky’s hand anyway. They move easily in each others’ space. “When - when did you think -”

“Oh, thirty five? Thirty eight? Something like that. Bucky went out with some girl and Steve sat in our living room for hours, looking like someone had broken his heart.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “I can’t believe it,” he says. Bucky looks at Steve with a worried look on his face. 

“How long did you stay? Aw, Steve.  _ Honey _ ,” he says. Steve goes spectacularly red and Becca laughs again. 

“When did it happen? For real,” she asks gently. 

It seems that the answer to that question is a point of contention. Steve and Bucky look at each other as if they’re trying to work it out in silent looks. It reminds Becca of a time long ago. “About a month ago,” Bucky settles on, eventually.

“Well,” Becca says. “Only took you a few decades.”

Bucky nods. His smiles are warmer, now. More genuine. “We weren’t sure what to tell you,” he admits. Becca smiles back at him. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says. “You can visit anytime.”


End file.
